


Rehabilitation

by ObviouslyAnonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky doesn't freeze, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Civil war kinda happens, F/M, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tony Stark Has Issues, are these too many tags?, but not really, plums
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObviouslyAnonymous/pseuds/ObviouslyAnonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a psychiatrist, and are the replacement for Dr. Broussard when the assessment is moved up and he doesn't show. You single-handedly prevent Civil War and prove that Bucky Barnes is innocent. Then, you're put in charge of rehabilitating the former assassin. </p><p>Canon-divergent from the first 30-ish minutes of Captain America: Civil War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. James Buchanan (Bucky) Barnes

**Author's Note:**

> The reader single-handedly foils Zemo's plans and prevents civil war. With her cell phone. Using one hand. 
> 
> I'm not saying you're a badass, but, you know, you're a badass. 
> 
> I'll probably edit this later to add in more description and make it not suck as much as it currently does.

 

You tried to pretend like you weren’t about to completely piss your expensive suit pants when you walked in the room. It was your profession to interview and psychologically assess criminals, mass criminals, even terrorists, but James Buchanan Barnes was different.

But just because he was different didn’t mean he wasn’t absolutely terrifying. Immediately his eyes turned to you, focused  _only_ on you. Oh god.  

The door slid closed behind you and you wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. Your sensible low heels clicked on the concrete floor as you walked over to the table and set your briefcase down, unpacking it and removing his file.  

“Good Afternoon, Mr. Barnes. My name is Dr. Y/LN, I’ve been sent by the Joint Counter Terrorism Center to assess you.”

There is a protocol for this type of thing. Usually you’d ask him a million and a half different questions, most of which are unnecessary, but you can already tell that he’s expecting that kind of behavior. He knows your type. He doesn’t appear too pleased to see you. Which means you have to throw that method out the window and shake things up a bit. 

“When was the last time you were the Winter Soldier?”

“Is that a trick question?” His voice is tough, graveled, suspicious, and there is hardly any upward inflection in his tone to signify that his statement is an inquiry.

“No!” You realize how that could be interpreted. You stand, and walk over to the other side of the table and lean against it, placing your hands in your pockets. “You see, Mr. Barnes-"

“Bucky,” He interrupts you suddenly, before going silent. _Interesting_.

“Bucky,” You acquiesce, giving him a slight nod, “I have a theory. Please, humor me and answer the question the way you feel is the best representation of the truth."

There is a long pause. You part you lips to ask another question, but then he speaks. 

“Two years, three months, six days, approximately 9 hours and 27 minutes and counting." 

“So, as we speak, you are not currently the Winter Soldier."

A nod.

“Describe for me the mindset you have when you _are_ the Winter Soldier."

This pause is shorter. Only a few seconds. “Empty. Cold. I know nothing other than my training, and nothing matters but the mission."

You slap the folder down on the conference table. “He didn’t do it.”

Rogers looks smug, and the U.S Secretary of State and Everett Ross all look shocked.

Stark is disbelieving, no doubt second-guessing your competency. “You’re proposing, what exactly? That the footage, the video and photographic proof, is what, fake?"

You nod, and ignore the incredulity in his tone. “That is the gist of my theory, yes."

It’s that moment that a man runs in the conference room. “I’m terribly sorry that I’m late, I’m Dr. Theo Broussard, here to evaluate James Buchanan Barnes. I just now received notice that the evaluation was moved up-"

You took a step back and raised an eyebrow, blinking repeatedly and making _absolutely sure_ you were certain before you spoke,“You’re not Theo Broussard.” 

He stopped and stood still, all hurried movement gone. A very curious look entered his eyes, and with it your mind began to race. He laughed, a kind of short and artificial sound. “What? Of course I am,” He flashed his ID badge and now everyone was looking at you like you _were_ perhaps, incompetent. Or crazy. 

Ezekiel Ross addressed you, “Dr. Y/LN, I’ll remind you that you just made a very serious allegation-"

You raised an eyebrow, “Then it’s a good thing I have proof to back it up."

You narrowed your eyes at the fake Dr. Broussard and pulled out your phone, scrolling through your camera roll. “The _real_ Dr. Theo Broussard came to my university as a guest speaker in my cognitive neuropsychology class, and not only did I take a video of his speech, but he signed the back of my copy of his book, and the flap just so happens to have his face on it. _You’re not him._ "

“This is ridiculous! She is lying!” The fake Dr. Broussard, whom you were very curious to know the real identity of, seemed awfully flustered.

You gestured to the screen at the front of the room, “May I?"

Stark tapped a few buttons and gave a flourish of his hand, welcoming you to proceed. 

You swiped upward and the video displayed on the screen, and you all watched as the real Dr. Theo Broussard spoke. He was an older, shorter, stouter man, with a wider, more rectangular face. 

“This has been faked! I have been framed!"

“-and here’s the book signature.” You flicked to the left and the photograph you had taken of the book signature, with his face (definitely _not_ this man) beside it on the back flap, made everyone sit up a bit straighter.  

Stark swiveled in his chair dramatically, facing the fake Dr. Broussard. “This just got _very_ exciting."

 


	2. AKA: Half-Defrosted Hydra Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containment, or rehabilitation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm contemplating whether or not I should name the chapters the stupid nicknames Stark comes up with for Bucky.

 

The man who claimed to be Dr. Theo Broussard turned out to be, in fact, a Sokovian national named Helmut Zemo. He looked, in truth, nothing like the real Dr. Broussard. And this posed the question of how in the hell he got through security, which was _supposed_ to be state of the art. You were a bit doubtful at this point.

Rogers and the authorities had searched his hotel room only to discover the real Dr. Broussard murdered in the bathtub, and you hadn’t asked for any more specifics beyond that point. When an individual is murdered in a bathtub, it brings certain bloody visuals to mind that often render the truth unnecessary. You’d leave those bloody descriptions for the investigators. However, a curiously large unknown device was found in the spare room, earth-made (you remembered a time when the descriptive term earth-made wasn’t necessary- only a few years ago). In the room they had also found evidence that credited your theory that the video and photographic footage supposedly proving Barnes’ guilt had been faked.  

You had _almost_ said I-told-you-so. You weren’t that petty. At least not in public.

There was a meeting scheduled for today, and you had showed up to the Joint Counter Terrorism Center early (after what happened last time when you showed up early you certainly weren’t about to show up late and let some criminal wreak havoc in your absence).The Avengers were all busy well, _avenging_ , or whatever. And you, in fact, had showed up early with a more significant purpose than to prevent mayhem.

You had a question to ask Mr. Barnes. 

The two guards standing at the door recognize you from the day before and let you pass without argument, so you flash your badge and fingerprint at the scanner and enter the room. 

Barnes looks exhausted. Did the lights on in the room ever turn off at night? You guessed not. That threw your planned small talk and morning greetings out the window, then. He was still tightly restrained in his cell, and there were the beginnings of dark bags under his eyes and the stiff irritability that one gets during sleep deprivation. His flat, borderline-murderous look alters just slightly when he sees the small smile on your face. 

“Well, it appears that you’ve been found innocent of bombing the United Nations meeting. As it turns out, a man named Helmut Zemo arranged for the evidence against you to be faked, and had planned to impersonate the doctor originally meant to assess you in hopes of getting close to you."

You can see the question in his eyes. _"Why_ he wanted to do this is unclear,” you continue, “but telling you all of that is only half the reason I came here. I have a question to ask you."

He looked as though he had no intention of responding, but didn’t look overly against the act itself, so you took that as approval enough and decided to continue. You only had one shot to do this, and you had to choose your verbiage carefully. 

“It’s more of a proposal, really.” You mused, considering the question in earnest. “In a few hours, a conference will meet and try to decide what to do with you. They’ll discuss containment, maybe even putting you back on ice. But with your permission, I’d like to be able to offer my services to try and  _treat_ you. For the past two years you’ve probably attempted to live a quasi-normal life, but my guess is that you feel like you can’t trust yourself, your mind, your memories. I can’t fix you, and I can’t make you forget, but I can try to heal you, and that’s all."

Mr. James Buchanan Barnes nodded. You took that as his permission. So you smiled, thanked him, and left. 

When everybody regrouped in the conference center, Rogers and Wilson seemed a bit more pleased with themselves than they had before. Everett K. Ross was away interrogating Zemo and handling the aftermath of the absolute whirlwind that had been the past thirty-six hours, which left the Secretary of State, you, and the Avengers. 

You spoke first upon the completion of greetings and small talk. You really weren’t much for pretense. “I’d like to offer my expertise as Mr. Barnes’ personal psychiatrist. I have experience in dealing with this type of,” you contemplated your next word carefully, “ _suggestion_ , or brainwashing if you will, and Mr. Barnes has already approved my plan."

“You spoke to Bucky?” Rogers asked, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Giving someone like Mr. Barnes control over their own life is a very important step to recovery. And since I feel Mr. Barnes will have very little control over his own affairs now that he is in custody, the very least I can do is give him control over his own treatment."

Rogers nodded, “If Bucky approves this then I do too, and I think Bucky should be released to the Avengers compound. I think its the best place for him."

Stark scoffed, and swung his feet off of an empty chair. “I’d rather not have a half-defrosted Hydra assassin where I _live_ , thank you very much."

The Secretary of State looked contemplative. "Perhaps the question should be: _containment_ or _rehabilitation_?"

Rogers bristled at the word containment and shrunk back as if he has been slapped. "Like it or not, Bucky is still an American hero, a World War Two veteran. He deserves a second chance. 

Stark raised his voice. "He's a Hydra _assassin_ , or are you forgetting that because the two of you used to have matching friendship bracelets?" 

Ms. Romanoff spoke for the first time since the meeting had begun. "Rogers has a point. Barnes deserves a chance. _If_ Dr. Y/LN can rehabilitate him to the extent that the Hydra training no longer poses a threat, then he should be given an opportunity to be an Avenger if he wants to, or to lead a normal life."

Stark swiveled in his chair to face the redheaded assassin, “And when rehabilitation doesn’t work?"

“We can discuss that _if_ we get there, Tony.” Wilson looked near-offended, giving his colleague a questioning glance as if so ask, ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’. 

You felt the sudden need to make a point. “Mr. Stark, there is a clear difference between James Buchanan Barnes, the man, and the Winter Soldier, the assassin. They are separate identities entirely, but one is the product of torture, violence, memory suppressing, and suggestion, while the other is broken and wrecked by guilt for the actions of the other.”

You sighed, “Listen, I understand that you’re apprehensive about living with a Hydra assassin, as anyone would be, but you aren’t living with the Winter Soldier, you’re rooming with a victim of 70 years of torture and emotional manipulation who had absolutely no way to control his actions. A victim who is attempting to recover." 

The entire room fell silent at the end of your monologue. Rogers’ eyes seemed a bit too moist than what was standard, and Sam and Natasha were fixated on far away objects that forced their heads to turn so that they weren’t facing you. Stark heaved out a long sigh and took off his sunglasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine, fine. I guess there’s room for another world war two popsicle at the compound, but,” He waved his pointer finger at you. “if I have to live with him, then so do _you_."

You didn’t blink. “That’s fine by me."


	3. AKA: World War Two Popsicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all go to the new Avengers Facility/Compound. Tony finds out you have a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the context and background information has been set and the real fun can begin.

 

You’re there when they take Mr. Barnes out of the cell. He spent three days in that thing, that cage, and it shows. His hair is a mess, there is some slight bruising around his wrist where the restraints had been, dark bags under his eyes, and frankly he smelled a bit.

His muscles tensed and bunched together as he crouched down to leave the indestructible cage. His footsteps were silent as he walked over to you. You had read the file, of course, and knew his height. But standing in front of you, with his now trademarked stoic expression, you realized exactly what that height meant. He towered over you by almost a full head. 

“What’s going on?” His voice is rough and he rubs at his bruised wrist only a moment before leaving his hands at his sides as though he didn’t want to demonstrate obvious weakness.  

“The conference came to a consensus and are allowing me to treat you. You’re being transferred to the Avengers compound.” You hand him his backpack, which you had convinced Ross to allow you to remove from evidence, and shifted your own bag on your shoulder.

He nods and silently takes the backpack, throwing it over his shoulder and not taking his eyes off of you. It unnerved you a bit, in a way. You weren’t ordinarily accustomed to being stared at all the time from one specific individual, and you found that you had to put extra focus into your steps so that you didn’t trip over your own two feet and make a fool of yourself. 

You gesture to the door, “If you’ll just follow me, then."

Rogers is waiting directly outside of the door. He falls in line beside the two of you and eyes Bucky with a critical gaze, face tight with concern.  

“Did you sleep?” Roger asks, which is something you had been wondering only the day before, and Bucky shrugs. “Have you eaten anything? I’m sure I could-" 

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, grasping his friends forearm with his right hand. “Relax. I’m fine."

Steve nodded, and cleared his throat in an awkward kind of gesture. “Right, I’ll lead the way to the Quinjet."

You had heard about the Quinjet, a stealth aircraft specifically used to transport the Avengers, but fully capable of combat if the situation were to arise. It was.. larger, in person. Wilson, Romanov, and Stark were all loitering around the Quinjet, waiting for the three of you to arrive.  

Stark said some snarky remark, which you ignored, and then the two of you climbed into the jet and took your seats. Mr. Barnes sat next to you, and Rogers beside him, and because Romanoff was serving as the pilot and Stark and Wilson had chosen solitary seats on opposite ends of the other side, it left the other seat beside you empty. Ah, glorious near-solitude. 

You set your bag on it and pullout your worn copy of _The Fellowship of The Ring_ and made yourself comfortable. Bucky leans back and rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes, slowing down his breathing. He looks as though he is asleep, but you doubt it. He seems the type to never truly relax unless he is completely alone.

"Dr. Y/LN?"

“Please, call me Y/n," You say, recognizing Rogers' voice and not bothering to look up, instead flipping to the next page of the novel.

“Why are you so invested in him? You’re dropping your entire life to come and live at the compound for who knows how long, just to take care of _one_ patient. Don’t you have friends? Family? Loved ones?" 

“My cat is being driven to the compound as we speak, if that’s what you mean.”

You knew what he really meant. You didn’t have any family, to be honest, none that really mattered or would notice you had gone. Your parents had died when you were young and your grandmother had raised you, but she had developed dementia when you were in college and at this point couldn’t remember who she was, much less who _you_ were. It was too painful to be around her, so you abstained. 

You had briefly gone back to your apartment to pack the necessary items, but beyond that you paid someone to pack it all up and ship it all to the Avengers facility in upstate New York. It really wasn’t much trouble to uproot your life and move. 

Stark’s head flew up from his tablet, where he had been completely enraptured in reading some kind of article. You caught the name “Potts” in the title but that was all. “You have a cat?" 

You nodded, wondering if he wouldn’t approve. “Yeah, a three legged Maine Coon. The Secretary of State said that wouldn’t be a problem-"

“No, it’s not a problem at all. Vision’s been talking about getting a pet."

And just as soon as he had left it, Stark retreated back into his tablet and silence enveloped the cabin. You went back to your book and Rogers didn’t ask anymore questions. 

Natasha Romanov’s landing of the Quinjet was the smoothest landing of an aircraft you had ever seen. Bucky had immediately opened his eyes and took of his seatbelt, standing and throwing his backpack over his shoulder again. Stark reluctantly stood and turned off his tablet (what had he been reading the entire time?) and walked off into the compound without a word. Rogers sighed and gestured for you and Barnes to follow him. 

The Avengers Facility is a lot of clean concrete and glass and just looking around makes you feel cold. It isn't especially welcoming, but there is a coffee maker so you’d definitely survive. Rogers briefly explains that there are five levels, three of which are underground. The two levels above ground are the living areas, with most of the Avengers having their private rooms on the second floor, but you and Bucky are set on the first floor. Below that are training areas and laboratories, then an underground garage, and below that a bomb shelter and storage space.

You and Mr. Barnes are led down the hall of the first floor to the two doors at the end of the hall. 

“The two of you get adjoining rooms and you’ll find that your things have already been moved inside and that’s pretty much it. If you have any questions just as one of us, or talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y, the in-house AI.” He gives the two of you a small smile and moves to walk away, but you catch his gaze. 

“Thanks, Steve.”

His smile gets a little broader and he nods his head. “Of course."

Rogers departs, and that leaves you and Mr. Barnes alone for the first time. Before, there had always been guards present, and thick industrial glass separating you. And he had been restrained. 

Bucky’s metal hand drifts down towards the doorknob and half turns it before he pauses and turns to you. “Thank you, Y/n, for doing this."


	4. AKA: Crossword Puzzle Aficionado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, Mr. Barnes has a penchant for doing crossword puzzles in the car.

The following morning you wake up to the enticing smell of pancakes and bacon. You yawn and stretch, reluctantly leaving what has to be the most comfortable mattress you've ever slept in (Mr. Stark apparently spared no expense when it came to this facility). Rifling through your bag, you scrounge up a pair of jeans and an old sweater from your alma mater.

The bathroom is nice. All stainless steel and clean lines. The shower has absolutely fantastic water pressure and you leave the steamy bathroom smelling like mint and lilacs. You gently towel dry your hair until it's no longer soaking wet and then braid it, eventually you throw on your clothes and leave the room.

Steve is making breakfast, and smiles in greeting when you walk in. "Morning, y/n. Did you sleep well?"

Bucky is sitting at the island counter, devouring a large plate of pancakes and bacon. When he spots you, he stops and stares, eyeing you with a curious kind of focus. You give him a small smile in an attempt to break the ice and sit beside him, but leave a seat in-between the two of you.

Steve slides you a plate of pancakes and bacon before you can say a word. “I’ve got some paperwork to fill out, so I’ll just head off.."

The both of you nod, and Steve leaves, leaving you and Bucky alone. You give the food in front of you all of your focus to avoid dealing with the silence, and Bucky finally speaks after three long minutes of empty air.

“When do we start?”

You was the pancakes down with a cup of brutally strong coffee and turn to him, “The therapy? Whenever you’re ready. I figured I would give you a day to settle into this new environment, get your bearings, become acquainted with ev-"

“I’d rather we start now."

You nod, surprised and caught off guard. “Right, sure, okay. Well, put your shoes on then. We’re going out."

“Out?” A quick glance at his face reveals that you’ve caught him off guard.

“Out,” you echoed, scribbling on a post-it note and taping it to the fridge. “It’s about an hours drive, so you might want to bring something to do."

You can tell that he wants to ask where you’re going to take him, and if he had, you would have told him. But he doesn’t, so you don’t.

Commandeering a vehicle from the garage was almost too easy. The keys are all hanging on hooks against the wall, and while you long to indulge yourself by taking one of the flashier vehicles, a Tesla key catches your eye, and you nab it without thinking. It’s pragmatic, you convince yourself. It’s energy efficient and incredibly safe.

Bucky gets in the passenger seat and moves his seat back to give himself more leg room. Meanwhile, you’re wondering where the key even goes in this vehicle- The car bursts to life and you jolt, and unable to stop yourself you shoot the equally-startled Bucky a grin.

“I’ve always wanted to drive one of these,” You comment, opening the garage door and backing out into the driveway. “Did you know that this model has a HEPA medical grade air filtration system? It can filter out 99.97% of contaminants. Just,” You shake your head fondly and look out the windshield, trying to reign in how much you love this car. “Science, you know?"

Bucky nods, looking rather impressed. “Science.” He agrees.

The cabin goes comfortably silent. You get on the highway and that’s when Bucky pulls out his pen and crossword puzzle. The hour goes by and soon enough you’re pulling off of a backroad and into the grass, and you put the car in park, pocket the key, and get out.

“This is Lake Ontario.” Bucky says as he gets out, a certain kind of familiarity in his eyes as he looks out at the water. The car door makes no noise as it closes. He’s been here before, you think. He turns to you. “What are we doing here?"

You roll up your jeans and take off your shoes, walking over to the water and digging your feet in as you let the soft waves wash over you.

“I figure it might’ve been a while since the last time you’ve ever truly been able to relax.”

Bucky is still for a long moment, listening. He looks at you, paying him no mind with your feet still in the water, then the empty road, then the surrounding area. But there’s nothing. Nobody. He even looks up at the sky, seeing only a vast expanse of blue.

You have your eyes closed, mind blank, shoulders relaxed. You’re completely focused on the sound of the water hitting the shore, the feeling of the tide washing over your feet and the granules of wet sand filling the space between your toes.

Several minutes go on like this, and you can almost feel the dark haired man stare at you, half suspicious, half perplexed. Eventually you hear the tell tale rustle of clothing and his shoes hit the sand roughly where yours are, and you can feel the disturbance in the earth when he digs his feet in beside yours.

It’s quiet. Peaceful.

An hour passes. A soft sigh leaves his lips and his stance finally relaxes, shoulders dropping.

You allow the corners of your lips to curl up into a barely-there smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has recently been a comment regarding why Bucky is being treated outside of locked doors and why y/n is acting as though he is not a trained killer. 
> 
> Bucky is a soldier and a victim. The Winter Soldier is a cold-blooded murderer. The second identity was forced upon him by HYDRA, while they tried to erase the first. In this scenario, it's my firm belief that treating someone as though they continue to be a weapon wouldn't benefit their treatment. The fact is, Bucky lived for two years in a safe-house and didn't kill anybody. He says to Steve something along the lines of: "I'm not going to kill anybody" in Civil War. The violence that James Buchanan Barnes commits in the film is reactionary, in self defense. When he legitimately tries to kill people in offensive, that is when Helmut Zemo activates the Winter Soldier. That is no longer Bucky Barnes.
> 
> Think of it as if you were trapped inside one body, but there was also the consciousness of a serial killer in there with you. When the killer takes control, you are unconscious. But when you're awake, you remember everything the serial killer did. But just because the both of you inhabit the same body, it doesn't make you the serial killer.
> 
> The Winter Soldier may be James Buchanan Barnes but Bucky is not the Winter Soldier.
> 
> This is part of a longer chapter still in the works, but I figured this was a good little chapter to post in the meantime.


End file.
